At Easter Time

An innocent game for children: hunt for eggs and Easter

candy. I walk the street looking for a miracle. I find a blue

mirage, a large unhatched wonder that makes my fits

foolish, conquers doubt, exceeds reason with curiosity,

makes the screen of the mind dance with enterprise, and

corrects the trajectory of the environment toward goodwill.

You could say the animal man dances this way believing,

trying, finding things at work or play and all this is just the

delicate programming of my genes, so knowledgeable

beyond what it takes to survive, as I go along observing

poetry that isn’t mine, my mortal frame at peace with

consciousness at last, agreeing that all I hunt for are poems

by Lawrence Bridges